The Walls of Berlin
by Mello McQueen
Summary: AR. It's nice, this normal apple-pie life. It just isn't their life - a Winchester's life. Sam and Dean know that and maybe, just maybe, Ellen knows it too.


**Written By: **Mello McQueen

**Summary:** It's nice, this normal apple-pie life. It just isn't their life - a Winchester's life. Sam and Dean know that and maybe, just maybe, Ellen knows it too.

**Characters/Pairings:** Girl!Dean (17), Sam (13), Ellen. None.

**Authoress Notes:** *facepalms* I just wanted to try my hand at writing a gender-bending fic, owing to the fact that I usually hate these things, and I only _just_ figured out why. Feedback and constructive criticism would be massively appreciated. Also, Ellen lives in Texas 'cause I was too lazy to look up where the Roadhouse is and John is already dead. Deal with it. Written at: July 9, 2010. Word count: 2,163.

.:.:.:.

**The Walls of Berlin**

_Texas, Summer of 1996_

It is 7:23 in the morning and the dark cloud-covered sky is only just beginning to lighten in the distance. Dean would feel relieved by this if she hadn't just spent the last three and a half hours shoveling up earth, and crawling around in the mud with her brother. Sam, whom Dean finds sitting atop a makeshift corral a few feet away, looks about as bad as she feels: tired, cold, and hungry. He's shivering in the early morning mist and she heaves a sigh, tossing down her shovel and walking over to him. It makes a squelching sound as it begins to sink into the earth.

She says, "Looks like we're finished," as she shrugs out of her jacket and offers it to Sam. He takes it with a grateful smile, and she grins at him when he slides it on. At thirteen, it's too big for him but then again it's too big for her too, because it was Dad's and now it's hers' and it is old and it smells like gun-smoke and leather and _him_ and now maybe it smells a little bit like her too.

Sam thinks it does, at least, that's what he tells her as he buries his face into the fabric and inhales deeply. Then he says, "I wish we could stay here like this forever." and she gives a small, amused, huff of laughter.

"What like this, tired and hungry and covered in mud for the rest of our lives? Dude, I'll pass thanks." And she rolls her eyes, and reaches over to give him a playful shove in the side of the head. He grins, despite himself, as he wobbles slightly on the poll and slaps her hand away.

"You know what I mean, Dean." He says, looking at her seriously and she sobers, letting herself smile, because she does know exactly what he means. They've only been here for a little over a week but it's started to feel kind of like a home. Dean enjoys it, likes the peace and calm of this place where they don't have to constantly think about what their next move will be or worry about where they'll end up. She likes eating real "home" cooked food, sleeping in a bed that hasn't been slept in by a thousand other people and even getting up at four o'clock in the morning to go out and finish building a fence by lamplight. She likes it even though her thumb hurts from being hit with a hammer one too many times and there are splinters in the palm of her left hand.

She likes it even though she's bruised and sore because it feels good and honest and _normal_.

She likes feeling normal, Dean realizes with a start and has to close her eyes and fight back the urge to sob when she remembers that this isn't their life. It will never be their life. They're Hunters and they hunt. It's what they've always done and what they'll always do, because they are who they are, no matter what; they're Winchesters.

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" She says, finally, opening her eyes and the look Sam gives her says he knows exactly what she's thinking. He always knows what she's thinking.

Sam's shoulders slump a little. He exhales slowly. "How long?" He asks resignedly, glancing up at the sky. The sun is slowly edging its way over the horizon, a soft yellow light spreading across a field full of cornhusks and cattails as the clouds shift, turning from a mixture of pale pinks and bruised purples to a vibrant orange.

Dean sighs. "We _can't_ stay here forever, Sammy." She says, slowly reaching up to rub a hand over her tired face before continuing: "We should pack up and leave now."

At her words, Sam hunches down sinking further into the fabric of Dad's old coat and lowering his eyes. There's a long stretch of silence before he reluctantly agrees and Dean nods. "Alright, we should head back to the house. We can grab our things and be out of here before-"

"Before _what_, Deana?" The voice isn't Sam's and Dean's head whips around so fast she thinks she might have given herself whiplash as her brother yelps and jumps, toppling off the side of the corral into the mud. Dean thinks _before anyone knows we're gone_ but she doesn't say this and she doesn't laugh as Sam pulls himself up and splutters wiping furiously at the right side of his face. She doesn't laugh because right now there is an angry middle aged woman staring her down with a look that would scare a ghost to ...life?

Dean shakes her head and laughs nervously. "Oh, hey Ellen..." She begins in a placating tone, "I uh..."

"Don't you even start," Ellen say's sharply before Dean can think of an excuse. "I come out here to tell you breakfast is ready and find you plotting to just up and leave, without even saying goodbye?"

Dean shuffles her feet and looks away, sheepishly reaching up and scratching at her head before responding as stubborn as ever. "Look it's not like this hasn't been great, Ellen but we need to leave. That's just how we are. We're-"

"_Winchesters?_" Ellen's voice is harsh and unimpressed as she steps forward and Dean narrows her eyes.

"Exactly." She says, thinking of how many times Sammy and she have had to say this over the past week.

.:.

_It's the middle of summer, and they make a quick stop in small farm town in Texas in between jobs. Dean isn't sure how, but they wind up sitting in a stranger's living room, drinking iced tea and eating sandwiches. The woman smiles at them as she takes a seat and they talk. First it's average everyday things, like the too hot, too humid weather and a carnival that she's helping to set up only a mile from her house, with tents and a Ferris wheel and everything. "It's got the works." She says, and they smile and tell her how they saw it on the way in. Then she starts in on the personal stuff, standard, but personal._

_"So where exactly are you two from? Where do you live?" And there's the uncomfortable shifting and Sam shrugs beside Dean. _

_"Oh, we don't really live anywhere." He says, "We stay on the road." and then, before Dean can stop him, he adds proudly: "We're Winchesters." _

_"Oh," She says and smiles at that but it turns into more of a grimace that she covers by taking a bite of her sandwich before asking where they'll be staying. While Dean ponders the fleeting look on the woman's face, she adds: "There aren't any motels in town." and Dean bites the inside of her cheek. _

Son of a bitch_, she thinks before shaking her head. "It's alright, we've got it covered." She says, even as Sam turns his eyes to her looking pleadingly as the woman offers a spare bedroom (which is actually less spare than it is her daughter's) to them. There's a long pause as Sam slumps down, looking disappointed and Dean's eyes instinctively travel to the front door where she can just see the tail end of the Impala parked in the drive. Ellen follows her gaze for a moment before recognition dawns on her face and she stands abruptly. _

_"Now you listen to me, you do not even _think_ about it!" She almost shouts, causing Sam to jump and scoot closer to Dean who, startled by the outburst, almost drops the glass in her hand. Ellen quickly apologizes and puts her own glass on the table, getting up and moving about without any real purpose. After a moment, she says, "You'll stay here tonight," and her tone leaves no room for argument. "It's too hot for the two of you to be sleeping in a _car._" The way she says car - like Dean's baby is something distasteful; a worthless piece of junk - makes Dean's skin crawl but she doesn't interject because Sam is sitting up straighter and he has this look on his face like it's Christmas. _

_For a moment, Dean relaxes and smiles, grateful for the woman's generosity. Then Ellen says, "I can't believe anyone would let their children sleep in a car in weather like this. Hell, I can't believe they let you do it at all. What the hell are your parents-" And just like that her words end because the room goes suddenly still and quiet, a chill hanging in the air._

_Slowly, Dean puts her glass down on the table beside Ellen's and she's glad that her hand doesn't shake when she does it. She says, sharply. "Sammy and I don't have parents." A pause, and: "We're Winchesters..."_

.:.

"Exactly...we're Winchesters." Dean repeats, wondering when exactly their last name stopped feeling like their last name and started feeling more like an excuse for all of the bad things that have happened in their lives...

Ellen sighs and deflates. "Alright," She says, relenting. "If the two of you want to leave so badly, you can leave. You've got free will and I am not about to stop you, butI think the _least_ you could do is stay for breakfast." There's an inviting, somewhat hopeful, tone to her voice as she says this, like it might really be up to them but it's not. Dean finds this out as soon as she opens her mouth to decline and Ellen promptly cuts her off.

"I made hotcakes with maple syrup and a side of bacon." She says, and Dean thinks her stint as a minimum wage, short-order cook in the seventies couldn't be more obvious. _Really, who the hell calls them hotcakes, nowadays? _She thinks privately, but doesn't voice this out loud as Ellen adds: "and apple pie."

The siblings exchange a look of silent communication before Sam's stomach growls and Dean heaves a sigh. "Okay," She says, grudgingly. "I guess we can stay for breakfast."

"Great!" Ellen exclaims, with a look on her face that says she always knew she was going to get her way. Dean wants to slap her, but she doesn't. Instead, she lets Ellen usher them both into the house and up stairs into the bathroom, where she tells them to get cleaned up and to meet her in the kitchen.

"She's bossy." Dean says, after Ellen's gone and she turns to look at Sam - whose typical response is: _"You're _bossy_."_ - And she has to will herself not to laugh. It works ...mostly.

"Dude, you should see yourself!" She starts after a moment. "You've got _mud_ in your hair - Sam gives her a dark look - no, seriously Sammy I think you could pass as a Gollum...we could parade you around at that carnival for money..."

Sam glares at her some more and huffs, half his body stiff and coloured brown. "Jerk." He says, as he pushes her out of the bathroom and slams the door closed.

In the hallway, Dean leans against the door and laughs. "Bitch." She breathes much too late for Sam to hear her over the sound of rushing water.

.:.

When they're both clean, they go down stairs (where Ellen has been waiting for them impatiently for over half an hour) and have breakfast.

Dean thinks it's probably the best breakfast they've had in years, and she asks for seconds.

Sam asks for thirds and eventually breakfast turns into lunch and lunch turns into dinner and before Dean knows it they're back upstairs in the "guest" room lying on a bed that is too big for even the two of them, and Ellen is standing in the doorway. She says, "Carnival opens tomorrow. You two stick around long enough and we'll go see it." And she smiles at them. They smile back and tell her "Good night, Ellen." and "Thanks for this." and she gives a nod and leaves them to sleep.

In the dark, Sam nudges Dean with his foot. "I like it here," He says and Dean smiles, looking over at him. She can just barely see his outline in the darkness.

"I do too," She admits, after a moment, folding her arms behind her head and staring up at the ceiling. A long silence stretches between them before Sam speaks again.

"We're going to leave now, aren't we?" He asks and he sounds disappointed, but not at all surprised. Beside him Dean nods, and in the morning their bed is made up and empty and there's a note on the front door.

.:.

_Sorry Ellen, we had to draw the line somewhere and...well, you know..._

Ellen shakes her head and laughs. "I know, I know." She says to herself. "You're _Winchesters_."

_Just like John._ She thinks and smiling to herself, she pockets the note and goes to see a carnival.

::..::

**End**

**Authoress Notes:** So...comments?


End file.
